Life is a Cabaret
by ko-drabbles
Summary: "There was a cabaret, and there was a master of ceremonies, and there was a city called Berlin in a country called Germany… and it was the end of the world. I was dancing with Kyoya Ootori, and we were both fast asleep…" - Kaoru Kelly-Hitachiin, 1931 (TW: Nazism, racism, homophobia, antisemitism, violence, and sexual harassment)


**A warning for those who aren't familiar with Cabaret: While this all starts out light-hearted, it involves some serious and disturbing topics later on. Warnings for: Nazism, racism, homophobia, antisemitism, violence, sexual harassment and other such issues.**

* * *

Kaoru crossed his legs at the ankle, changing his position for what had to be the fourth time in just as many minutes, his backside numb and pins and needles licking at his feet. The train from Paris to Berlin wasn't the longest journey he'd been on, by far, but he couldn't say he was a great traveller.

He should have purchased a novel other than the one currently residing in his suitcase which, despite it being by his feet and not put away above his head, he couldn't be bothered to retrieve. Some political tripe that he thought he should familiarise himself with. Instead, he simply watched the grey smoke roll passed the window, listening to the sound of the train's motion, and decided that it was – all things considered – a nice way to travel.

He wouldn't make an afternoon of it, however; his derriere wouldn't forgive him. He was just content to sit in his little compartment, partaking in some rather nice peace and quiet, gazing out of the window as green landscapes rolled by. Berlin might just give him the inspiration he's been searching for; the city laying before him, ready to be made his muse. One successful (sort of) novel under his belt, and he should publish another before the promise the publishers talked of burned out. Not so much a supernova as a glowing cinder from the fireplace extinguishing itself on the stone hearth.

Still, Berlin was not only home to art, culture, history and excitement, but his dear twin brother. Hikaru had, of course, been rather insistent – it was like he never left, really. Seeing his brother's excitedly scrawled handwriting proclaim the Berlin was a must, and that he'd certainly be able to take off the proverbial corset and relax for a while in one of the many famous cabaret clubs. Handsome men and beautiful girls wearing skimpy, lacy outfits and dancing provocatively. He was about as interested as any man would be; which was to say, very. It'd certainly be an interesting backdrop for the new novel, anyhow.

His introspection was interrupted by a knock on the sliding door to his compartment, a man with a somewhat unfortunate face standing there, a suitcase in each hand. His long, straight nose was slightly hooked, and he could only picture the villain of a talkie he'd seen back when he was in Ireland. It was a tad unfair, of course; especially because he hadn't even given the man a chance to say anything.

"Belegt? Occupied?" The man asked, gesturing about the small compartment, and Kaoru shook his head in reply, only for the man to ask again, in English, "Is it permitted?"

"Yes, yes, by all means," Kaoru confirmed, the man stepping in and sitting in the seat opposite, giving him a small smile that only served to make his expression more pinched. He set his two suitcases on the floor also, sighing heavily as he reclined against the backrest.

"Japanese?" The other man inquired, far more politely than some.

"I might as well wear a sign," Kaoru chuckled, running a hand through his hair, "One part Jap and the other Gaelic. All I have to show for the other half is red hair and burning to a crisp in sunlight though, I don't even hold my liquor well."

The nameless man laughed, slightly too high and a little too sudden, but it broke the tension all the same. After all, having a sour face was not necessarily an implication of a sour personality. "German and Japanese, not that I have ever been outside of Europe. I take up residence in Berlin," He introduced, holding out his hand for Kaoru to shake, "Takashi Ludwig Kuze."

"Kaoru Kelly-Hitachiin, no permanent residence," He responded in kind, firmly grasping Herr Kuze's hand. Just as he did so, however, he heard the tell-tale release of stream, the train's wheels grating on the tracks as the brakes were applied, the engine slowing to an eventual crawl. Just to make sure, he decided to inquire to his new, probably more informed companion, "Are we slowing down for the German border?"

Herr Kuze hummed, turning to look out of the window. He was apparently familiar with the scenery, as he soon confirmed the assumption.

"So, I assume you've made this trip before, then?" Kaoru supplied, trying to keep up the small talk before the conversation died and the compartment filled with stagnant awkwardness. Having not even fully entered Germany yet, it would be a nightmare to ride in cloying silence for the rest of the trip.

"Many times," Herr Kuze nodded, reclining back in the seat once more, settling down as they awaited the conductor and the accompanying checks. Honestly, that was another thing Kaoru disliked about travelling, having to dig out his passport before he crossed any border; it always seemed to fall right to the bottom of his satchel. However, the man opposite cut through his mental rant before it gathered an unhealthy amount of steam, "You are a tourist?"

"Uh… Not quite. Well, that's not the full picture," He dithered, unsure if this counted as oversharing with a stranger, "I'm a writer, and I give Japanese lessons. I just needed a little more inspiration for my next novel… Something I'm rather lacking, apparently. Care for a cigarette?"

Herr Kuze didn't seem all that interested, most of his focus directed at the view out of the window. It was rather beautiful, Kaoru had to admit, but green fields had also been a staple scenery in Ireland, it wasn't all that dissimilar. Not to mention that the other man had made the trip many times, so surely the intensity at which he was taking in the view was a tad unwarranted? Still, he could've taken the trip that many times because he was fond of it, he supposed, and so he spoke up once more.

"Herr Kuze?" He was at least acknowledged this time, snapping the other man out of the thoughts he'd obviously been invested in, Herr Kuze turning to face him again. A hum, and Kaoru continued, holding the case up to him, "Would you like a cigarette?"

"Oh, no thank you," Herr Kuze waved away. Kaoru just nodded, returning the cigarillo box to his breast pocket, the compartment falling silent once more. It was that odd space that felt vacant of words, unsure of what to say to a stranger; a touch of anxiety and awkwardness. God knew that people didn't like to be bothered while on the train, or so he'd learned during his time in London. Just keep your head down and carry on.

He didn't have to endure the silence much longer, however, control officer making his rounds and performing his tasks. He could hear the strong, harsh syllables of German a little further down the carriage, and he once more attempted to dig out his damn passport. At least Herr Kuze was prepared, it seemed, already having it in-hand. Perhaps it was one of the skills that came with constant travel; being able to locate your paperwork easily.

"Deutsche Grenzkontrolle," Came a voice from the doorway, the control officer standing by the door to the compartment. Luckily, his passport finally came to hand, and he passed it to the officer. The booklet was flicked through quickly, the basics of his information scan-read, and he was handed it back with no fuss, "Welcome to Germany, Herr Kelly."

He bit back the urge to correct the man as the customs mark was put on his bags without even opening and inspecting them. He knew the second half of his name stumped some people, and the man's pleasantries were sincere. There was no point being anal about it.

Despite how lax his own checks had been, it seemed as though Herr Kuze didn't have that luxury. While his German wasn't terrible, the phrases spoken between his new acquaintance and the officer were too quick for him to truly understand. Lots of questions, a bag being searched, but he noticed that another bag had suspiciously joined his own. As the officer didn't see it, they were both left alone once more in the compartment when the officer believed his work was done.

"I wish you'll enjoy your stay in Germany," The officer bid Kaoru with a curt nod, "And a most happy new year."

The door to the compartment was closed, Herr Kuze retrieving his undeclared bag once more, and Kaoru's curiosity was piqued. After all, Herr Kuze gave off an air of one with a straight-laced, law-abiding attitude – not to mention that, despite the unfortunate face and touch of social awkwardness, he seemed like a nice gentleman.

It didn't help that the Hitachiin sense of curiosity and general nosiness was rather hard to ignore. While he was the most well-behaved between Hikaru and their mother, it was still a defining trait that tended to cloud his judgement and make him feel somewhat entitled to know what wasn't his business.

"What's in the bag?" He inquired, Herr Kuze looking a little unsure at that, almost nervous.

"Oh, err, just some trinkets from Paris, really," He answered, "Perfume, silk stockings. Gifts for friends, but more than what is really permitted. You understand?"

He did. He'd also brought some things for Hikaru, although his budget didn't really allow for anything too fancy. Some shortbread from Scotland, some sketches of the landscapes he'd seen, nothing costly. He'd be more than happy to see his brother again, anyway; even if he was the one with more expensive taste. It'd been a fairly long time, after all…

"Well, I guess I've done some smuggling myself, then," He chuckled, happy to see that Herr Kuze had perked up at that.

"You are most understanding, thank you very much," He enthused, a teeth-bearing smile on his lips that really didn't help the sinister, rat-like look he had, even if the thought was impolite and unfair, "I would like to make sure that your stay is an enjoyable one, that Berlin will be a home-from-home. We'll even start tonight; a friend of mine works in one of the hottest clubs in Berlin. Japanese theme, phones on tables, girls call you, boys call you and – instant connection. The best dancers, too; my friend was even famous in England for a while –"

"That's very kind of you," He interrupted. It seemed once Herr Kuze began to speak, he had an issue stopping. One thing did catch his attention, however; _boys call you_. He had no issue with homosexuality, obviously, but it sounded far too… open. Especially for what he was used to. But maybe Berlin was different? "I don't have fixed accommodation yet. I'm hoping to share with my brother, but I'm not sure if he has the space necessary…"

"Well, you see, I can remedy that also. Herr Morinozuka has the finest residence in Berlin, and inexpensive also. Just tell him I sent you, and he'll be most amenable," Kuze insisted, scrawling a name and address on the back of a business card before handing it to him. Takashi Morinozuka, huh? "After all, people can be oddly picky over residents. I'm sure you understand my meaning…"

He did. His Japanese heritage would probably be the most hindrance, but the Irish in him wasn't particularly helpful, either. Hunting for a room would have to take these into account, and if Morinozuka's rooms were in his budget, then it would be easier.

"Thank you very much, Herr Kuze," He smiled, holding out his hand for the other to shake, "I'll certainly have to visit the club you mentioned, also."

"No need to thank me. New country, and you already have a fine place to live, your first friend, and perhaps even your first Japanese student," Kuze enthused, shaking his hand, "Welcome to Berlin, my friend."

Yes. Welcome to Berlin, indeed.


End file.
